


Try to Arrange Me

by Totalspiffage



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Aromantic, F/M, can also be read as, can you see where this is going, grey-romantic hawke, with a doting romantic boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4984372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totalspiffage/pseuds/Totalspiffage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke doesn't feel like she loves the way he does, Anders can be a little overwhelming with affection, but amidst the mess they get by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try to Arrange Me

**Author's Note:**

> Personal note: this is totally self-insert trash, and it's how I'm dealing with my own insecurities about having a romantic partner while I'm demiromantic myself as it can be really hard not to blame yourself for not feeling like they do sometimes. 
> 
> As it's mostly inspired by personal experience, this may not translate to others.
> 
> Also, because again self-insert trash, my Hawke is grey-aro but not asexual, there are hints of sensuality, but nothing explicit.

 

I.

His eyes were on her again. Those large, brown, adoring eyes fixated on her, a smile on his lips.

In an ideal world, she’d swoon into his kiss, promise him the world, they’d never let go.

She was far from ideal. She was scarred, bruised, and there was something Wrong with her. Anders was everything she could ask for in a partner. Kind, attentive, patient, yet fiery, passionate, and attractive to boot. She should love him.

Maybe love was quiet, love was appreciation, just missing the other person’s presence.

Was this what they wrote songs and tales about?

 

II.

She couldn’t resist the urge to flirt, regardless. His blush was pretty, a light dusting of pink, and she smiled to see him like that. She’d made him smile like that. It felt good, knowing she could make him happy.

She wanted the best for him. For all her friends, really, but he was special. He tempted her. She wanted to kiss him, taste him. She had a list in her head.

But he loves you, she reminded herself.

It didn’t feel right asking when she didn’t know if she could return it.

 

III.

They kissed in his clinic, one comment pushed him to action, and he’d all but confessed. He was so passionate, so endearing, so pure in his cares. She relaxed against him, enjoying the sensation of his lips on hers. He smelled like elfroot and distillation agent, his hands were calloused and rough against her jaw. She smiled against his kiss as he pulled away.

I will come to you, he said.

She wondered if she had any time left to delay. And yet, the thought of him gone from her life was painful. She cared, she really cared. His hands on her cheek made her smile.

She wondered if he’d be there in the morning, all morning breath and mussed hair. She smiled.

 

IV.

She felt broken most days, but she especially felt it today.

“It’s too much today. I’m sorry,” she’d said. Too much love, too many kisses, too much everything.

She was an idiot. She’d lose him over this, she convinced herself. He liked telling her he loved her. It wasn’t something she quite minded usually. She had a different kind of love, she thought to herself.

And yet, she’d burst into tears in the middle of his well-intentioned expressions of love. He compared her to goddesses, called her his muse, kissed her as he did. In all the books, it felt amazing, it felt wanted. It just felt overwhelming, to her. Scary.

She had wanted to feel his skin next to hers and laugh about a rude joke, not to be sobbing in the library at 3am after making a fool of herself.

He brought her tea, and stayed up with her there, a soothing hand down her back and dramatic readings of dirty poetry.

 

V.

She apologized late one night, with her back to him as he curled around her. She said she was sorry, that she couldn’t be whole for him. That he deserved to be loved wildly, by someone who would have no reservation.

He kissed her neck and soothed her pain with his reassurances. She wasn’t broken, he told her in hushed tones, he wanted to be here, with her. Just seeing her smile, knowing it was because of him, knowing how much she valued him, knowing he mattered, that was the important part.

The noise inside her head ceased for just a little while.

 

VI.

“Hawke,” he’d whisper reverently.

“Anders,” she’d sigh, kissing his neck.

He fit against her, and she savored it every time. If she was selfish for keeping him, then Maker damn her she would do it.

She couldn’t love the way he loved, but he still felt so perfect here with her.

 

 


End file.
